A Nice Hat
by Sleep-Not
Summary: I always wondered where Will found that hat from the last scenes of the film - this is my take on it. Prepare for a great deal of facetiousness.


A Nice Hat

He was a man in dire need of a hat. Fortunately, he knew just where to get one.

Hatcher's Hat Shop, open from seven am until six pm every day but the Lord's own, and manned – or rather womanned – by one Maisy Laurence, Mr Hatcher's very own niece.

She, of course, had only ever heard of him – through gossip and the local grapevine, from other young woman giggling over how handsome and earnest (if a trifle awkward) the young blacksmith apprentice was – since, let us be truthful, he had never before required a hat.

Now he needed one more than David had needed that handy slingshot and rock. His Goliath would not be one man, but many. So naturally, he needed a hat. A nice one.

She had been thinking of closing early – since old Thom Hatcher left the running of his business almost entirely up to her, his only living relative, Maisy was quite at ease in her surroundings and was never rushed but for special holidays or for bulk orders. She wanted to have a good night's rest before the execution the next morning. For it wasn't often one had the opportunity to witness the hanging of such a vile and scurrilous rascal as the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.

But now who should enter her domain but one of the very characters Port Royal was so agog about these last few days – William Turner, the blacksmith's apprentice. And what fancy togs he was wearing, too. He looked a mite uncomfortable in them – as if they were very new and he was still wearing them in, but no doubt he'd be as right as rain by tomorrow – probably wanted to impress a girl, and if her gossip was correct, that girl could only be the Governor's very own daughter, Miss Elizabeth. How scandalous!

"Good day, Mr Turner," She greeted him, "And what can I do for your good self today?"

Wouldn't Jane be envious when she heard he'd visited Maisy's shop! She'd been panting after him for nigh a month on, despite that he'd gone running off with nearly all the marriageable men out there (the Navy) after Miss Swann.

He looked at her for a brief instant, before stating – rather curtly she thought – his intentions.

"I need to buy a hat, Miss Laurence. You _do_ have hats, don't you?"

Well! Jane was certainly off the mark when she'd said he had a rather pleasantly shy manner to him. The man before her knew he wanted all right.

"Do you have an occasion in mind?" She asked sweetly, "Perhaps preparing for the Commodore and Miss Swann's wedding already?"

The look he gave her did not merit description.

However, her question brought another predicament to light. She recognised it well enough – he needed a hat, a nice one, only he had no idea what sort would do the trick.

"Well, have you a colour scheme in mind, sir?"

The customer frowned. She had to admit Jane was right about him looking rather fetching when he frowned. She would have to try and make him do it again.

"Erm, by colour scheme…"

Men! It was so much easier with the women customers – they always knew what they were looking for – but men just tried to pick a plain hat off the closest rack with no thought whatsoever to occasion or suitability.

Mr Turner cast about rather helplessly, spotted a plain hat on the nearest rack, and exclaimed, "Now there's a fine hat! Just what I was looking for, Miss Laurence, thank you so much for your help! I'll take that one."

Well really.

"I'm afraid you can't have that hat, Mr Turner."

"Why ever not?"

"_That_ hat is a woman's everyday bonnet, Mr Turner. Somehow, I don't see it quite suiting you. Anyhow, the colour's all wrong with what you're wearing – I assume you'll want a hat that goes with those fine clothes of yours?"

His face rapidly went through a progression of changes – confusion, embarrassment, surprise and back to confusion again.

"Well… yes."

Maybe Jane was right, maybe Will Turner was shy, sweet and awkward like the maids claimed… but as she thought these things, his resolve seemed to firm and he stood straighter.

"I want a _nice_ hat," he said, as if that explained everything. To him, it probably did.

"Naturally," she smiled and patted his hand, "You wait right there, I'll go fetch some examples that would charm even Miss Swann down from her tree." She winked, he blushed – then frowned. It really was quite adorable.

She came back, piled with boxes and fussily measured his head – much to his dismay.

"I don't feel that's necessary, Miss Laurence, it's a hat not a crown."

"Are you the hat expert, or am I, sir?" She asked, a steely glint that would have put fear in the heart of Jack Sparrow himself appeared in her eyes. He was disputing the rules of hat making and hat fitting by which she ordered her business! Men! Really!

When he didn't reply, she smirked.

"That's what I thought."

Fitting over, she discarded about a third of the boxes she'd brought out from the storeroom immediately. Turner watched with eyes that said he'd had no idea what he was getting into when he'd entered the shop and was now half-seriously planning a quick getaway. Ah, but he was braver than that – at least in that the gossips had been speaking true.

She gave him a good looking over which made him frown, but before he could voice a protest she was whipping out hats that suited his finery's colour scheme down to the ground.

"Now then, do you have any idea what sort of message you'd like to put forth, Mr Turner?"

Confusion suited his face just as sweetly as frowning did, she thought, how terribly mean of her, not to have Jane over for this!

"Why, every hat, indeed every piece of clothing is a statement about its owner, wouldn't you agree? So, are you trying to look wealthy or suave – don't look me at like that young man, I know you're just Mr Brown's apprentice though I'm sure I'd like to know where you saved all the money to splurge on new clothes!"

"Do you… talk to _all_ your customer's like this," he asked and grinned widely, as if he'd suddenly been let in on the joke.

She smiled warmly, "Only first timers, I presume you'll be opening an account with us."

"Find me the right hat and I will!"

"So, what image would you like to put forth?"

"A good man… and a pirate – figuratively speaking, of course!" He added swiftly, at her raised eyebrow.

No wonder all the ladies were after him. No wonder.

"Then you shall need something with flair," she stated grandly, "To add to your own, of course. I'm thinking… something with a feather."

"A feather?"

She nodded, "A really big one."

It was, they both agreed, a very nice hat. Though she wished she'd had the time to make one special for the occasion. Not that she properly knew what occasion it was for, but she could hazard a guess.

"Thank you." Turner said, before he left, looking every inch a pirate in his silly hat.

"Good luck!" She called after him, but she doubted he'd need it – after all, she knew Miss Elizabeth, just as she knew all the town's womenfolk. There was no better place to find what was needed than Hatcher's Hat Shop.

END

Author's Note: I, personally, am unable to decide whether Will's hat was 'Nice' as Sparrow disparagingly termed it or not so bad after all. This little ficlet popped up halfway through chapter four of my other PotC fic, 'Two Men'. Ooh, what shameless self-advertisement, especially so as it has absolutely no bearing whatsoever on this story! Frankly, I just felt like making sport (no, not that way!) of dear William. I'd like to thank Dianna Wynne Jones for writing me a hat shop that has stuck with me long out of childhood (along with all sorts of other things) and Pirates for being, well, _there_. Thanks also go, as always, to Mich, who mentioned in passing that I should update my PotC stuff, and whom I paid attention to… for once!


End file.
